Coping
by Lady of the Shards
Summary: Ezekiel's thoughts on how the Winchesters cope with what happens to them. (I am disregarding the latest episode, technically wrote this before watching it-still disregarding. *glares at writers*)


**Coping**

They had so many ways of coping. So many ways of dealing with the hurt.

From the outside it seemed that they only had a few. Drinking, women, simply bottling it all up until it burst out of them with fists and tears.

Most would call their coping unhealthy.

They didn't see what I could, but then, they had never been in my position before.

Only two had before me, but neither had really cared about the boys. They had only cared about hurting them and hurting others.

I wanted to help them, to heal them.

So I watched them. Watched how they coped with each new hurt. Each new torment thrown their way. Watched how during battle they revolved around each other, filling all the holes in the other's defenses.

But that wasn't their coping. That was their hunting. Their fighting. Their living.

Their coping was so much quieter. So hidden that if you blinked, you'd miss it.

It was the unnecessary, purposeful bump of their shoulders as they walked, a quick reminder that the other was still nearby. Hadn't disappeared.

It was the sitting on the Impala's hood under the stars, drinking beer and reaching out, grasping each other's wrists to feel the pulse still going strong, the warmth of the skin under their fingers.

Both of the boys had nightmares. With all they had seen, who wouldn't?

But some nights, the nightmares weren't loud enough to wake the other, for the other to pull the still sleeping one to wakefulness, releasing them from the dream.

Sometimes they were quiet. Bringing the sleeper awake suddenly and silently.

On those nights the one who had awoken would quietly check on the other before going and sitting at the window of whatever motel they were staying in at the time and keeping watch until exhaustion forced them into the realm of unconsciousness again. When the other awoke in the morning they would find them asleep facing the door while they cradled their gun loosely in their hands.

They never spoke of these times. Silently acknowledging that they happened, but they both understood so no words were necessary.

That is what most people seemed to misunderstand. That the brothers did not always need words. So often, words got in their way, causing them pain and misunderstanding.

So few people ever understood them, these brothers. And those who did were never allowed to remain in their lives. Taken away from them by various means, one by one.

All the brothers had was each other. Castiel did his best to be there for them but he brought so many problems with him, so much confusion and pain. He had raised both brothers from hell, but then hurt them, intentionally as often as not. So even with his good intentions… It is too dangerous to have him near. For him to be near Sam as Sam recovered. And too much risk of Castiel discovering me and alerting Sam. Too much risk of Sam forcing me out while the both of us were much too weak. I couldn't risk it.

Being forced out would kill Sam. And this time, there may be no way to bring him back. The angels had fallen and blamed the Winchesters and Castiel. The demons were rampaging under the control of Abbadon, if control was a word used loosely.

Sam's death would send Dean into a downward spiral. Once, many years ago, Dean could have survived years without his little brother. Now it would be a miracle if he survived a single month.

Too codependent on each other, many had said.

I saw the truth.

They were soul mates.

Not the definition of soul mates that humans used nowadays. The true meaning of soul mates had been lost on the wind eons ago. It did not mean romantically destined for each other, though many soul mates followed that route. No, it meant always there for each other. Even after death, their souls would remain entwined and connected. The soul that left the realm of the living first would not become an angry spirit, but part of them would always remain with the other.

But during all the years, the fights, the pain… All the years of having only each other to turn to had caused Sam and Dean's souls to become connected much faster than any pair of soul mates ever before.

So many saw this as their greatest weakness, an area to be exploited. It wasn't until after it was all over that they realized it was their greatest strength. Their determination to protect the other, to die for the other if necessary, and sometimes—far too often—it had been.

I wanted to stop that from being necessary to these two souls. These two beautiful, pure souls.

Sam considered himself to be eternally tainted by demon blood.

Dean saw himself as damaged for what he had done in hell.

They both considered themselves broken beyond any hope of repair from all they had seen and done.

But all that had ever happened to them had never truly touched their souls. Under layers of pain, grime, darkness were brightly glowing, clean souls.

So pure that I could see it as soon as I set eyes on Dean. As soon as I saw Sam's prone form in that hospital bed. Even as the life was fading from his body his soul had shone so bright.

And I knew I would do anything to protect them.

So I received Dean's permission to use his form. To use his own words to bring Sam back to him. As soon as Sam was well enough, I would vacate him and return to my former vessel. Then I would come to the Winchesters again. And I would make sure that they reunited with Castiel.

And I would watch over them. The two pure souls.

So often have I wondered how no one else has seen their purity? Then I watch Sam's memories as he dream them, as he thinks of them during the day.

And I realize.

Before me, no one had truly looked at them this way.

Castiel had come so close to seeing it when he pulled Dean from hell. The many times he healed them. Perhaps he had acknowledged it subconsciously. Perhaps their purity is what truly draws him to them.

But he has been too blinded by the outside, the filthy shells covering their souls. Too distracted by all that is so constantly thrown at the boys to truly look.

But as I explore Sam, healing every wound I find—so many wounds, through all of his body and mind, but only a few came close to touching that beautiful soul—I see it. And seeing it in Sam allows me to see it in Dean as well.

Their souls are like lighthouses, guiding me through the storms.

I know now that I will always be able to find them, despite any ward or symbols carved on their ribs.

Because their souls are pure and will never be tainted.

I will not let them be separated. When Death finally claims them, it will be together. Because after all that has happened, one cannot truly survive without the other.

I am the angel Ezekiel and I pledge this to my Father, wherever He may be.

So I will continue to heal Sam Winchester and learn. Learn how they cope. So that one day, I may help them cope with whatever else comes their way.

**xXxXx**

**Author's Note:…..I currently hate the writers of Supernatural. Excuse me while I go create voodoo dolls of them and torture them.**

**This is how I wanted it to go. For the writers to provide a new companion for them! For someone else to truly be on their side! What do they do? They—wait, no. I don't want to accidently spoil it for someone.**

**I dislike tonight's episode greatly. They had better fix this. But I have no clue how they will. Grrr…**

**I apologize for the little rant. I may start writing an AU. And I have the perfect idea- that I am already working on- on how to start it. Excuse me, I have another fic to write. I need my happy!**

**I am not a writer! I am a puppet controlled by fictional characters!**


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